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The examined life

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  • Creation vs. Consumption

    I want to create. To write. To make something that feels like it’s mine.
    But right now, my life feels paused—caught between work, survival, and this constant hunger to learn something “useful,” without ever having enough time. It eats at my soul.

    I work two jobs, and I study. I scroll through social media and see people my age making six figures without ever clocking into a 9–5. And no, this isn’t about comparison anymore. You might say, “But you chose to work two jobs.”
    What if I didn’t?

    I didn’t choose the circumstances. I chose the only safety net I could build. I chose stability. And to do that, I traded softness for structure, femininity for productivity. There’s a free-spirited, adventurous version of me who wants to lock the to-do list in a drawer and throw away the key. But if you passed me on an average day, you’d see someone with everything in her calendar, a planner in her bag, and twelve-hour workdays stamped across Monday to Friday—with Saturdays booked too. From May to October 2025, I worked seven days a week until I finally told my manager, “I’m taking a day off.”

    Let me be clear: my manager is incredible. I can set my own schedule. I love my job. I teach children English online and get to add value to their lives from anywhere in the world—New York, London, Madrid, wherever I am. I’m deeply grateful for that. But being a self-funded student abroad means I pay for everything myself: studies, rent, food, life. So Sundays became a sacrifice until I could find balance.

    In 2026, I don’t want to just consume anymore. I want to create.

    Yes, teaching and working are forms of creation—but I’ve started to realise how much we consume just to show up. I tie my worth to productivity. I binge content about “getting my life together.” I watch reels titled “How to Take Control of Your Life in 2026.” I admire the Pinterest aesthetic, the beautifully curated lives—but beneath it all, consumerism feels louder than ever.

    Buy this and you’ll become that.
    Try this and your life will change.

    I don’t want to buy another version of myself. I don’t want a 30-day challenge to prove I’m disciplined. I don’t want to watch other people paint, crochet, and vlog while I sit on a train scrolling through their lives instead of living my own.

    I used to paint portraits. I used to blog. I used to make art.
    Now I’m standing on the edge of a quarter-life crisis, realising how quietly work, social media, and survival have taken over. Younger me would be proud of what I’ve built—but this version of me has stolen something from her: her creativity, her softness, her feminine ease. I’ve replaced curiosity with checklists. Art with algorithms. Stillness with spreadsheets.

    So what do I want?

    I want to travel.
    I want to laugh with my friends—really laugh.
    I want to crochet.
    I want to paint portraits for the people I love.
    I want to learn salsa.
    I want to pick up my guitar again and fall in love with progress over perfection.
    I want Saturdays with nothing to do and no guilt attached.
    I want to read all day and dance all night.
    I want to eat gelato in Italy, ride scooters through Thai markets, island-hop in the Philippines, and meditate in Bali.

    I’m not trying to escape my purpose.
    I’m trying to return to myself.

    I don’t want a to-do list for the rest of my twenties.
    I want a bucket list.

    I am young.
    I want to create.
    I want to live.
    I want to explore.

    So I’ll ask again—because maybe now you understand the question better:

    Where do I start?

  • Unexpected Gifts: Lessons from My Flight to Spain

    Sometimes, I can’t believe this is all real, that I’m here. Here I sit at my study desk, renting a room in Spain. I first imagined getting this far in October 2023. Someone told me about “teaching English in Spain.” They mentioned something about “a program run by the Spanish government, auxiliares de conversación.” I remember being intrigued and thinking, “I would love to do that.” I simply couldn’t hide my intrigue.

    That same night, I went down the rabbit hole, looking at different programs and websites. Surprisingly, I found that applications opened in November. I applied as soon as applications opened. I remember thinking, “This is it.” Maybe I had a way to combine my passion for academia and teaching English with travel. It had always been my dream since childhood to travel to Europe. I didn’t know how, but I knew that it was my life’s desire.

    My room has a view of the street. The orange blinds combined with the luminescent streetlights give the street this European flair. After a little over three weeks, I have done little exploring. I’ve gotten a public transport card and applied for administrative appointments. Madrid is only twenty minutes away. I am planning to go to the city center for the first time this weekend.

    A Chance Encounter at 30,000 Feet

    I didn’t know how to feel on my way to Madrid, Spain, but I knew one thing—this change would bring growth. Flying is one of my favorite travel experiences in terms of people watching, but not in terms of comfort. I met someone on my flight, a Tanzanian girl, my lucky charm. She told me it was her first time visiting South Africa, for a conference, and I was delighted to have made her acquaintance. She was in awe of the shopping malls. I asked her about her travels and learned that she hoped to visit the United States next. Her smile was welcoming, and I was curious about her country—Tanzania. I told her I would visit, and I plan to follow through with that. By the end of the flight, she searched her bag for something. I paid little attention to this until she handed me a dainty white case. I opened it up, taken back. Inside was a lovely pair of pearl earrings—a parting gift. This lovely, unexpected gift was a sign—that perhaps there was a reason for everything, after all. Maybe I had made the right choice. I knew nothing of what obstacles lay ahead of me, but I was on my way to a European country at the age of twenty-four, and I had met a wonderful friend. Out of all of my past mistakes, I knew I had done something right. It felt like a message: “You’re going to be okay. Keep going.” I liked her smile and her warmth and felt drawn to her immediately. This is the type of kindness I’d like to see more of in my life, flowing from myself and others. What a pure soul.

    Madrid—a cultural hub of diversity and heat. 35 degrees Celsius, summer heat, 13 hours of flying, and five hours of teaching on the same day. Walking in a European street, having saved the money, secured the teaching position, and found accommodation myself, made everything worth it.

    I made a vow that I would explore once I’m settled. I’ve heard from the locals that Toledo, Segovia, Granada, and towns ‘to be discovered’ are worth visiting. I will have to clear up my seven-day working schedule to travel. No doubts about it.

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